


Locks of Love

by redxcranberry



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redxcranberry/pseuds/redxcranberry
Summary: It’s been nearly a year since Sylvain was officially certified as a professional hairstylist and, for the first time, he can honestly say he’s doing pretty damn well all things considered. He’s found a job he actively enjoys, he has a solid circle of friends, and he’s free from his parents’ toxic influence at last. The only thing that’s eluded him is a successful love life - though Sylvain’s starting to wonder if he’s even capable of that level of commitment in the first place.So when a strange, beautiful man with midnight hair wanders into his salon one day, Sylvain is simultaneously intrigued and infatuated. The only problem is this: how can he possibly woo someone when he barely knows anything about them?
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63
Collections: Sylvix Gift Exchange 2020





	Locks of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratbandaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratbandaid/gifts).



> Written for the Sylvix Secret Santa fic exchange. Thanks a million to [ratbandaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratbandaid/pseuds/ratbandaid) for the amazing prompt! :)

Sylvain’s day begins as it almost always does - he wakes shortly before 7:00 a.m., throws on his clothes, and leaves his studio apartment to head to work. He hums to himself as he gets on his bike, savoring the brisk autumn air as he glides through the quiet city streets towards downtown. Cool wind whistles through his hair, as invigorating and captivating as the orange rays of sun that drench the skyline in morning’s first light.

When Sylvain arrives, he usually grabs a coffee at the shop next door, Mercie’s Confections - he’s friends with the owner, who often throws in a free sweet bun or two for him to enjoy as a treat. He makes his way to the salon and greets the receptionist, Bernadetta, on the way in with a chipper _good morning!_ and a bright smile, then heads to his station to get ready for the day.

Sylvain loves the tools of his craft. He takes excellent care of his array of combs and brushes that glide through hair like a fish through water along with his trusty pair of scissors, their silver blades glinting as they work their magic. He loves the satisfying _clip_ sounds that mean he’s hard at work, as dedicated and precise as a sculptor chiseling away at a block of marble to reveal the masterpiece that lies within. In Sylvain’s mind, there’s nothing better than watching his clients’ eyes light up when they see themselves in the mirror after a long awaited makeover. Day after day, the thing he loves most of all is helping people express themselves and gain confidence in the way they see the world.

He sure as hell likes being a hairdresser a lot more than the finance career his parents nearly forced him into in an ill-fated attempt to groom him into taking over the family legacy. After his brother was finally disowned for good, Sylvain’s parents informed him he’d be following in his father’s footsteps. When Sylvain expressed doubts, they had guilt tripped him to the moon and back and dangled veiled threats of withdrawing their financial support until he reluctantly enrolled in business school.

He lasted a semester and a half before realizing that trying to fit into the mold of the perfect heir his parents had always wanted was quite literally killing him - he wasn’t eating, he was constantly sleep deprived, and he barely had any free time to pursue his hobbies or hang out with anyone outside of work. He couldn’t remember the last time he truly felt like himself. It took an intervention from a group of his closest friends to get him to realize the way he’d been living was wholly unsustainable. He dropped out of his classes, broke off contact with his parents soon afterwards, and moved far, far away from his hometown and all the baggage that came with it. And suddenly, he felt freer than he ever had before.

But with his newfound independence came newfound responsibilities, chiefly money. As a trust fund kid and former heir apparent, Sylvain had never particularly had to worry about his own finances in any real capacity. He skated from job to job, working as a waiter and then a food delivery driver, each new position helping him make ends meet but still devoid of any real passion or purpose.

Until the day Dorothea invited him to tag along with her to her beauty school class.

He’d been fascinated almost immediately by the glitz and the glamor, captivated by the way Dorothea and the other students worked diligently to transform the mundane into the magnificent, all under the tutelage of the beauty school’s owner and head teacher, Manuela. At first, he just sat on the sidelines and observed. But it wasn’t long before he found himself asking to try his own hand at some of the practice mannequins. Soon enough, he enrolled as a student himself and shortly after graduating, landed a job along with Dorothea at Manuela’s salon in downtown Enbarr. She’s an…interesting boss, to say the least, but Sylvain has grown fond of Manuela’s eccentricities and her often dramatic and rarely sober retellings of her many disastrous romantic forays.

It’s been nearly a year since he was officially certified as a professional hairstylist and, for the first time, Sylvain can honestly say he’s doing pretty damn well all things considered. He’s found a job he actively enjoys, he has a solid circle of friends, and he’s free from his parents’ toxic influence at last. He supposes things could be a little better - he’s had a series of horrible dates lately that has made him worry that Manuela may be rubbing off on him - but they could also certainly be worse.

Sylvain finds himself relaxing in the salon’s break area one afternoon as a mix of 80’s pop music and quiet jazz plays over the shop’s staticky speakers. Raindrops thrum against the storefront’s windows, the foggy glass panes covered with faded glamor shots of men and women with silky smooth hair in every cut, color and style from the past few decades. A photo of Manuela from her glory days as a model is front and center, her perfectly manicured bob shining bright with not a single hair out of place.

It’s 5:00 p.m. on a Wednesday, one of the quietest times of the week for business. Sylvain sighs, propping his feet up on the coffee table before him and picking up a stack of magazines left for customers to browse through. He flips through the glossy pages, skimming past dozens of sensationalist headlines like _EXCITING WAYS TO SPICE UP YOUR SEX LIFE_ and _GET A BEACH BODY IN JUST 30 DAYS_ and _IS IT TRUE LOVE? FIVE QUESTIONS TO ASK YOURSELF IN ANY RELATIONSHIP._ He’s just about to peruse an article on the best new facial cleansing trends when the tinkling of the bell above the front door echoes throughout the salon.

“Sylvain!” Bernadetta squeaks from behind her place at the reception desk. “Client!”

Sylvain throws the magazine back on the table and hops to his feet with a skip in his step. “Coming!”

When Sylvain turns the corner, his first thought is that the man standing before him looks like something the cat dragged in. He’s wiry with a strong, lean frame, while his dark clothes are positively soaked with rainwater. His hair is dark as night, its twists and tangles cascading past his shoulders towards his slender waist. When the man raises his gaze to look towards Sylvain, his two piercing, amber eyes give off a decidedly feline impression.

“Hello, and welcome to Casagranda Salon.” Sylvain dutifully chirps.

“Hello,” the man answers, monotone.

“Are you here for an appointment?”

“I guess,” he answers.

“Great! I’ll be taking care of you today. What’s your name?”

“Felix.”

“I’m Sylvain.” He offers his hand out to Felix, who simply stares at his outstretched palm. Sylvain awkwardly stands there for a second before not-so-smoothly bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his own hair in an attempt to recover from the failed handshake. From the questioning look on Felix’s face, it didn’t work.

“Oookay,” Sylvain says. He’s dealt with his fair share of aloof customers before and he can do it again. Some clients want to gossip and make small talk all day long while they’re getting their hair done, and some just want Sylvain to do his thing while they sit in absolute silence until he’s finished. If he were a betting man, he’d put good money on Felix being in the latter category. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to get my hair cut.”

“Well, that’s good - you’ve come to the right place,” Sylvain jokes, letting out an awkward laugh. “What cut were you considering?”

For the first time since he walked in the door, Felix’s expression softens. “I’m not sure, actually.”

“I’d be happy to offer a consultation,” Sylvain says, beaming. “We offer all sorts of styles - long, short, bangs, layers, full color, highlights, ombre-”

“A consultation sounds good.”

Sylvain nods in response. “Follow me!”

Sylvain leads Felix back through the reception area to the salon’s lounge and to the two black leather couches in the corner. A coffee table sits between them, completely covered with binders of glossy prints demonstrating hundreds different styles and cuts. Felix takes a seat on the closest couch and Sylvain plops down next to him.

Now that they’re seated side by side, Sylvain can’t help but notice how _beautiful_ Felix is. Despite his ragged mane, there’s a wild sort of allure about him. He’s mesmerizing, really - all hard angles and sharp edges but with a grace and elegance to him that’s hard to deny.

Felix’s hair is undoubtedly one of his most striking features. Sylvain likes the way his inky locks frame either side of his face, softening the angles of his cheekbones and standing out in crisp relief against his alabaster skin. He could lose himself for hours staring into the depths of Felix’s midnight hue, so strikingly different from Sylvain’s own shade of bright sienna.

“So…” Felix looks at Sylvain expectantly.

Ah, yes - he’s supposed to be choosing a haircut. Sylvain forces himself to stop staring at Felix’s face and turns to grab the nearest binder.

“When’s the last time you went to a salon?” Sylvain asks as he flips through its pages. Judging by the state of Felix’s hair, Sylvain would guess it’s been months, if not years since it was last cut and taken care of properly.

“It’s been a while,” Felix admits.

“Then all the more reason to get a fresh new look!” Sylvain props the binder open on the table in front of them. “First, were you thinking of getting it dyed as well, or-“

“No dyes,” Felix cuts in. “I like my hair color the way it is.”

“Okay. Just a cut, then. Tell me what you were thinking.”

“I thought that was your job?”

“How am I supposed to help you choose a hairstyle if _you_ don’t even know what you want?”

Felix’s golden eyes rise to meet Sylvain’s own, sending a thrill up Sylvain’s spine. “Surprise me, then.”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. It’s not often he gets clients like…well, like whatever the hell Felix is. “Alright, Mr. Mystery,” he says with a coy smile, “I’m always up for a challenge.”

For a second Sylvain swears he sees the corners of Felix’s mouth rise ever so slightly in response, but it’s gone as soon as it came.

“What do you think of this?” Sylvain offers, pointing at a classic cut with a side part. It’s a popular style that Sylvain’s done so often that he could cut it in his sleep.

“No. Too short.”

“This one here?”

“Too long.

“Maybe this one?”

“Not a chance.”

Sylvain only sighs, turning the page once more.

There are difficult clients…and then there’s Felix. He seems to shoot down every suggestion Sylvain has without a second thought, even grimacing whenever he deems one of Sylvain’s recommendations particularly unsuitable. Each option is either too flashy or too drab, too weird or too boring, too old fashioned or too new age. Nearly an hour later after Felix first arrived, Sylvain has just about given up entirely when he turns to the last page of style cards and picks one at random out of exasperation.

“How about _this_?” Sylvain’s finger comes to rest on a photo of one of the newer hairstyles in his repertoire. It’s a complicated, layered cut meant to be worn in an updo, with sideswept bangs in the front leading to a short ponytail in the back.

Felix stares at the page for a moment, pensive, while Sylvain waits with bated breath.

At long last, he speaks. “Hmm. That could work.”

It’s by far the most enthusiastic thing Sylvain’s heard come out of Felix’s mouth yet, so he sees that as a solid win.

“Finally!”

Felix gives him a strange look, so Sylvain tries to reign in his enthusiasm. “Er - I mean, I think that would look great on you.”

“You do?”

“I do,” Sylvain answers honestly. _Anything would look good on you,_ Sylvain’s brain unhelpfully supplies.

Felix does his weird little half smile again and stares at Sylvain with a curious expression, almost like he’s evaluating him for some kind of test he didn’t know he was partaking in.

 _Shit_ , Sylvain wonders, _did I say that second part out loud?_

Felix has just opened his mouth to respond when he’s interrupted by a certain purple-haired receptionist.

“Hi - sorry to impose!” Bernadetta squeaks. She’s halfway hidden behind a potted plant near the room’s entrance as if terrified to come any closer. “I just wanted to let you know the salon’s closing in fifteen minutes! So sorry!” She hightails it back to the reception desk before Sylvain can thank her and assure her there’s nothing to apologize over while Felix stares after her, befuddled.

“Don’t worry, she’s always like that,” Sylvain reassures, and Felix actually lets out a short laugh.

Sylvain’s heart soars at the sound and _g_ _od_ , is he really falling this hard for a client already? He tries to keep it cool as he leads Felix to the exit. “Well, looks like we’re running out of time tonight. Want to make an appointment for later this week?”

Felix nods, and Sylvain rummages around in his pockets for one of his business cards with his contact information. He gives it to Felix, who inspects it for a moment before slipping it into his wallet.“I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“So it’s a date, then?” Sylvain asks. He knows he’s being rather forward, but Manuela had once lectured him about _missing 100% of the shots you don’t take_ or something along those lines. On second thought, he probably shouldn’t be taking dating advice from _Manuela_ of all people.

He half expects Felix to roll his eyes, but he’s instead pleasantly surprised. “Fine.”

“Don’t forget to give me a call when you’re ready,” Sylvain says as he holds the door open for Felix.

“I won’t.”

Sylvain wants to ask if Felix means he won’t forget or that he won’t call him, but he’s left speechless when Felix gives Sylvain a wry smile as he departs, leaving a very flustered Sylvain in his wake.

❖❖❖

Sylvain’s next shift is even slower than usual, with only a handful of customers coming to and fro throughout the morning. His only scheduled appointment is for one of his regular clients who comes in to get her bangs trimmed and have her hair dyed a shocking shade of bubblegum pink once every month or so. It’s not a particularly strenuous task and Sylvain knows her preferences like the back of his hand, so he usually enjoys chatting away with her while he works. They’re gossiping about the latest celebrity news and debating fashion trends when the conversation veers towards the romantic.

“Are you dating anyone? _”_ she asks him seemingly out of the blue, her tone simultaneously playful and wistful.

Sylvain nearly cuts his own fingers off in surprise. “Are you propositioning me, Hilda? I’m flattered, but -”

“Of course not!” Hilda bursts into laughter, nearly falling out of her chair. Sensing Sylvain’s complete and utter confusion, she turns towards him and clarifies. “No offense. I just realized you’ve never talked about your love life before. You can’t blame a girl for being curious.”

“I don’t exactly have a love life,” Sylvain admits.

“Oh? A strong, handsome man like you - single? Color me shocked.”

“I thought you wanted me to color you pink?” Sylvain jokes. Hilda rolls her eyes, flipping her hair back over her shoulder and motioning for Sylvain to continue working.

“Have you _ever_ been in love, Sylvain?”

He only laughs in response, shaking his head. In lust, absolutely. But in _love_?

After spending his childhood as a firsthand witness to his parents’ increasingly tenuous and acrimonious marriage, Sylvain isn’t even sure if he believes in _love_. Now that he thinks about it, when _was_ the last time he had feelings for someone that progressed past initial attraction and into something more?

“Well,” she declares after a poignant pause, “you’ll find someone soon. I’m sure of it.”

“Maybe,” Sylvain murmurs. He’s trying very hard to focus on trimming Hilda’s bangs evenly instead of thinking about a certain man with long, midnight hair when his phone suddenly starts buzzing in his pocket.

“Mind if I take this?”

Hilda motions for him to go ahead, so Sylvain pulls out his phone and balances it between his shoulder and his chin as he runs his comb through Hilda’s hair.

“Casagranda Salon, Sylvain speaking.”

“Hey. It’s Felix.” The voice on the other end of the line is unmistakeable.

Sylvain freezes. “Felix! I was just wondering when I’d be hearing from you again. Did you want to schedule an appointment?”

There’s silence on the other end of the line as Felix pauses as if weighing his options. “Actually…I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me tonight.”

Sylvain drops the phone immediately, cursing as it clatters around on the floor, ricochets off the chair leg, and slides under a nearby table. He gets down on all fours and frantically picks it back up, causing Hilda to erupt in a fit of laughter at the sight.

“Felix! You still there?”

“I am.”

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t sure if I heard you right.”

“I asked if you wanted to get dinner together,” Felix repeats. “If you’re interested.”

“You bet!” Sylvain wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. “For you, anytime.”

Felix ignores the compliment, but Sylvain likes to imagine he’s blushing on the other end of the line. “I’ll send you the time and address. See you then.”

Straight to the point, as always. Sylvain can dig it. “Yessir.”

He hangs up the phone and stands frozen for a second, still shellshocked by what just happened.

Hilda seems delighted. “What was that about ‘no love life’ again, hmm?”

Sylvain just shakes his head in disbelief and resumes working on Hilda’s hair, grinning stupidly to himself all the while.

❖❖❖

Felix texts him the name of the restaurant, some hole-in-the-wall Japanese place in the city’s nightlife district. He’s already waiting outside when Sylvain arrives later that night. Flashing neon signs soak the narrow street in an otherworldly pallor, illuminating Felix’s ivory skin in streaks of bright blue and red as he ushers Sylvain inside.

The restaurant is small, with a few tables scattered here and there and a sushi bar running along the length of the open air kitchen. Crimson lanterns hang from the rafters above and soak the restaurant in a soft red glow. It’s a serene atmosphere; there are only a few patrons seated at the bar quietly munching away on their meals.

Felix is obviously a regular at this place; he greets the white-haired cook behind the counter with a quick nod and asks for “the usual.” “The usual” turns out to be a heaping bowl of the extra spicy shoyu ramen, while Sylvain gets the chicken miso flavor.

They grab a table by the corner. It’s not long before they’re lost in conversation, and Sylvain soon finds that talking with Felix comes as naturally to him as breathing. He tells Felix about his own history - his parents, his brother, and his decision to throw it all away and start a new life in a different city. He even shares his dream of opening his own salon one day.

Felix sympathizes with Sylvain’s toxic relationship with his parents, laughs at his jokes, and seems genuinely interested in his life. But Sylvain can’t help but notice that Felix hasn’t volunteered any information on his own background other than a few platitudes and vague references to his past. Eventually, Sylvain’s curiosity gets the best of him.

“What about you?” Sylvain asks, slurping down the last of his ramen. “What’s your story? Your family?”

Felix hesitates for a moment, then pulls out his phone and shows Sylvain his background - a photo of a man in army gear smiling at the camera. He’s got a wide smile and a twinkle in his eyes. His arm is draped over another soldier, a taller man with platinum blond hair who’s been mostly cropped out of the picture. Yet that’s not what catches Sylvain’s attention.

The familial resemblance between the first man in the photo and Felix is striking - same sharply angled chin, same midnight hair, same glowing amber eyes. The only difference between them is age - the man in the photo looks several years older by Sylvain’s estimate. If Sylvain didn’t know any better, he’d think he’s looking at a photo of Felix from the future.

“Your…?” Sylvain asks.

“Brother.” Felix answers. “His name was Glenn.”

Sylvain just nods, noticing the _was_ instead of _is._

“He died last year,” Felix says after a short pause, “killed in action overseas.”

“Oh.” Sylvain doesn’t know what to say.

“After that, I just…I kind of shut myself away. I stopped eating, stopped seeing my friends. I didn’t leave my apartment for months.” Felix pauses, staring down at the photo. “It was easier that way. Easier to do that than to face a world without him in it.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers lamely.

Felix nods. “Thank you.”

“You look so alike,” Sylvain muses, studying the photo once more.

Felix inhales sharply. Sylvain raises his eyes to see what’s wrong. When he realizes Felix’s hands are shaking, his eyes brimming with tears, it’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room at once.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-“ Sylvain instinctively raises his hands to comfort the other man, but Felix pulls away.

“No, it’s - you didn’t know.” Felix steadies himself with a few deep breaths, his eyes scrunched up in what is clearly unspeakable pain.

Sylvain can feel his heart sinking, mentally kicking himself for mentioning it in the first place. Of course he hadn’t been the first to notice, and Felix is undoubtedly sick of hearing about it. “I shouldn’t have said anything.“

“I know we looked alike. I’ve been told that my entire life, and it’s true. I don’t blame you for noticing the obvious.” Felix’s breathing is back to normal now, but he still looks haggard. For the first time, Sylvain notices the slump in his shoulders and the subtle bags etched under his eyes.

There’s silence for another few seconds. Sylvain wants nothing more than to give him a hug and tell him everything will be okay. But he knows that would just be an empty promise.

Felix abruptly stands. “I’m sorry. I should probably leave.”

Sylvain just nods dumbly in response. He would give anything to go back in time to a few minutes ago when they were chatting and laughing. To before he went and ruined it all like he always does.

Felix grabs his bag and makes his way towards the exit, and Sylvain fights against the rising lump in his throat as walks out the door, his midnight hair swinging from side to side as he goes.

❖❖❖

Almost a week later, Sylvain still hasn’t recovered from his disastrous outing with Felix.

Felix hasn’t texted him, and at this point, Sylvain is pretty sure that he’s never going to see him again after what happened. It’s honestly ridiculous how much headspace Sylvain has allotted to Felix considering he barely even knows the man. He keeps replaying their conversation in his head, imagining ways it all could have gone differently in an alternate dimension where Sylvain José Gautier doesn’t ruin nearly every relationship he touches.

He’s so preoccupied that he’s only half paying attention at work all day, leading to some _very_ close calls. It all comes to a head when Sylvain mixes up his supplies and dyes the hair of one of his clients neon green instead of the requested light blue. Sylvain realizes his error and is able to fix it after much trial and error, but the man still threatens to fight Sylvain in the salon’s parking lot before Bernadetta manages to calm him down and offer a full refund.

Bernadetta approaches Sylvain soon after. She still looks a bit shaken up.

“Oh. Hey there, Bernadetta.” “Thanks for helping me out earlier.”

Bernadetta just nods. “Sylvain…are - are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just…you don’t usually make mistakes like that.” She sees Sylvain’s frown and quickly backtracks. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to be mean!”

“No, you’re right. I wasn’t on top of my game today, and I’m sorry you had to deal with all that because of me.”

“It’s okay,” Bernadetta says. “It wasn’t that bad. I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks,” Sylvain says. “I hope so, too.”

Dorothea must have noticed Sylvain’s morose demeanor as well, because she corners him while he’s cleaning up his station at the end of the day.

“What’s up with you today? You’ve been moping about the salon, you’ve barely said a word to me or Bernie…”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Dorothea glares at Sylvain for a moment, but her gaze soon softens. “You know we’re just trying to look out for you, right?”

“It’s a long story,” Sylvan says with a sigh.

“I have time,” Dorothea insists, hands on her hips. She’s wearing an expression that tells him she’ll find out one way or another.

Sylvain stares back for a moment then shrugs. “How about some coffee first?”

The coffee shop next door is nearing closing time, but Mercedes lets them in while she sweeps the floors, tends to a few straggling customers, and puts all the freshly baked pastries onto racks to cool overnight. The cozy scent of sourdough fills the store as Sylvain and Dorothea order their drinks and claim a table in a little nook by the back wall, far away from prying eyes.

“I’m going to get straight to the point,” Sylvain says with a sigh as they sit down. Dorothea gives Sylvain a questioning stare. “Thea, I’m in trouble.”

“Trouble? Like _girl_ trouble?” Dorothea’s look of concern shifts to one of exasperation. “Look, Sylvain, what else is new? I swear if you’re going to complain to me about last week’s hookup whose name you can barely even remember-“

“No! Not girl trouble.” Sylvain steadies his hands around his latte, watching the foam layer on top dissipate as the rising steam forms tight coils and swirls in the air. “Not this time.”

“Oh. Money?” She reaches out to place a hand on Sylvain’s forearm and gives it a slight squeeze. “You know I may not have much, but I’d be more than willing to lend a hand if you need help with rent or food or-"

“No!” The word comes out a bit more forcefully than Sylvain intended and Dorothea withdraws her hand, startled. Sylvain buries his head in his hands, then takes a deep breath. Nothing good can come from putting it off any longer - he’s just going to have to come right out and say it.

“Sorry. Ah shit, Thea - how do I say this - I - I think I have a crush on one of my clients.”

Dorothea raises her eyebrows and motions for him to continue.

“Remember that dark-haired guy I had a consultation with? He came into the salon last week and I gave him my number, then he invited me out to dinner.”

“That’s great! Sylvain, I’m so happy for you.” Dorothea reaches out and gives his shoulder an encouraging shake, but something in Sylvain’s expression makes her stop.

“It would be, yeah…if not for the fact that I think I may have fucked it up already.”

“What happened?”

Sylvain explains his predicament, grimacing as he recalls the look on Felix’s face right before he had left.

“Why not just offer an honest apology? I’m sure he’d understand it was just a mistake…”

Sylvain lets out a humorless laugh. “I doubt he’d want to hear it from me.”

“Oh, Sylvie…” Dorothea purses her lips. “How will you know for sure if you never even try?”

“I…”

“Promise me, alright?”

Sylvain just nods and stays silent, attempting to bury the tiny seed of hope nestled deep inside his chest before it can cause any more damage than it already has. He mulls over Dorothea’s words on the way home and all the while he’s tossing and turning to try and fall asleep, thoughts of Felix running rampant through his mind.

❖❖❖

Sylvain’s next day at work is not much better than the last. He doesn’t have any more mishaps - thank goodness, considering he’s already going to have to get Bernadetta a nice gift for dealing with his shit - but he’s been lethargic and overall distracted since he got in in the morning. He’s even thinking of calling it quits and heading home early when something on the other side of the front door catches his attention.

He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

Felix steps into the salon, and Sylvain holds his breath. They stare at each other for a second, then both speak at once.

“Felix-”

“Sylvain-”

Sylvain awkwardly shifts in place, staring down at his feet. “If you want me to grab another stylist, Dorothea should be back from her break any minute now-"

“No need. I wanted to say sorry.” Felix shifts in place, staring down at his feet.

“Felix, I’m the one who should apologize.”

“No,” Felix says a bit more forcefully. He takes a step towards Sylvain, who forces himself to look Felix in the eye. “I just…it had been a while since anyone asked me about Glenn. I guess I wasn’t expecting to react that strongly. I shouldn’t have left so abruptly the other night. I usually have better control over my emotions.”

Sylvain merely nods in response, unsure of what to say.

“It’s just…every time I look in the mirror, I see him. Glenn. My own damn father even calls me by his name sometimes.” Felix’s voice wavers on the words. “That’s actually why I came to get my hair done in the first place. I want something that won’t remind me of him anymore. Something that’s all my own.”

“Oh.

“And no, I don’t want another stylist. So I’m ready for my appointment now,” Felix says, “if the offer still stands.”

“Of course it does,” Sylvain says, thrilled to get a second chance.“Follow me.”

First, he leads Felix to the back to wash his hair. Felix follows Sylvain’s instructions, sitting down in the chair before him and tilting his head back into the basin.

Sylvain raises his hand to Felix’s scalp. “Do you mind if I…?”

Felix motions for him to go ahead, so Sylvain begins to Felix’s hair by rolling it between his fingers. The ends of his hair are frayed and dry as chalk. His scalp isn’t much better, with small mats and tangles that make it difficult to tell where one piece ends and another begins.

Helping his clients has always been a labor of love for Sylvain, and Felix is no exception. Sylvain works the shampoo into Felix’s crown, massaging his scalp with the utmost delicacy. He carefully teases the knots apart, taking care not to pull too hard or tear them and making sure he takes as much time as he needs to ensure he’s providing Felix with the best treatment possible. When all the kinks are worked out, he rinses Felix’s hair and cards his fingers through his locks, each strand so soft and silky smooth that they slip across his open palm like quicksand.

Next, Sylvain sets Felix up facing away from the mirror at his workstation so Sylvain can see Felix’s head from all different angles as he works. He places an apron around Felix’s shoulders and combs through his hair to prepare to cut, then confirms the style Felix had asked for - the short ponytail with sideswept bangs. As Sylvain begins, he pays close attention to every millimeter of hair, clipping here and trimming there as meticulously as he can.

When he’s finally finished, he brushes off some of the hair gathered on Felix’s shoulders and removes the apron with a flourish.

“Ready?”

Felix nods.

“Voilà!” Sylvain places both hands on the back of the chair and swivels Felix to face towards the mirror.

Felix’s expression is inscrutable as he surveys his reflection. He raises a hand to his new bangs and gingerly runs his fingers through his freshly cut locks, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and perfectly into place.

Sylvain holds his breath, hoping beyond hope that Felix will at least find his new haircut acceptable. “What do you think?”

Felix is silent for a few more seconds, a period of time that feels more like a few decades to Sylvain. Finally, he turns towards him, a wide smile breaking out across his face.

“I love it.”

“You do?” Sylvain feels his heart pounding in his chest.

“Yeah,” Felix grins, tilting his head back and forth to observe how his hair moves with him. “It’s nice.”

Sylvain knows well enough by now that _it’s nice_ may as well mean _this is perfect_ in Felix-speak.

“It’s my pleasure,” Sylvain insists. “You look stunning.”

Felix’s cheeks are as red as Sylvain’s hair when he next meets his eyes. Then the most amazing words in the universe tumbling out of Felix’s parted lips all at once. “Would you go on a date with me?”

“What?” Sylvain says dumbly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then it hits. “I - of course I would.” Sylvain feels more than little lightheaded. “I’d love to.”

“I know our last one ended rather unceremoniously,” Felix says, “and that was my fault. Let me make it up to you. Want to grab a coffee?”

“Sounds amazing,” Sylvain answers. When Felix only motions towards the door, Sylvain balks. “Oh - you mean right now?”

“If you’re free.” Felix is blushing even deeper now. “It’s okay if you’re not, we can go some other time-“

“No, no - now is great. I can be free for you anytime.” Sylvain resists the urge to jump up and down for joy. “Give me a minute to pack up my things?”

“I’ll be waiting outside.”

Sylvain nods vigorously as Felix takes his leave. He haphazardly stuffs his phone and the rest of his belongings in his bag then glances across the room. Dorothea is tidying up after finishing with one of her own clients, humming absentmindedly as she works.

“Thea,” Sylvain sidles up to Dorothea’s station. Dorothea falls silent and gives him an expectant look. “Have I mentioned you look positively radiant this eveni-?”

“What do you want, Sylvain?” Dorothea turns toward him with her hands on her hips, a half exasperated, half amused smirk gracing her face.

He puts on his best puppy dog expression, holding his hands up in front of his chest with his palms pressed flat together. “Will you close the salon for me? I have a date I _really_ don’t want to miss. Like, right now.”

“A date?” Dorothea raises an eyebrow.

Sylvain motions towards the entrance where Felix is clearly visible leaning against the store’s window, and Dorothea’s eyebrows rise even higher in surprise.

Dorothea smirks and adopts an expression that screams _I told you so_. “Alright. Only because I know how bad you’ve got it for that man. But you’re on cleanup duty for a week. Deal?”

He knows he’s going to get shit from Manuela about this, but at this particular moment, Sylvain genuinely couldn’t care less. “Deal,” he responds enthusiastically. “You’re the best.”

“I know that,” Dorothea chirps. “You two have fun, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sylvain gives a quick salute, then turns on his heel and walks toward the door with a newfound spring in his step.

He knows he’s smiling like an idiot, and normally he wouldn’t be so keen to wear his heart on his sleeve. But right now, all he’s focused on is the man waiting for him outside, his midnight hair blowing in the soft breeze and his smile lighting up Sylvain’s life like so many stars in the night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they dated and got married and lived happily ever after. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Twitter: [@redxcranberry](https://twitter.com/redxcranberry)
> 
> [Promo post](https://twitter.com/redxcranberry/status/1341575219874574338)


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